Bright Lights, Dark Dreams
by LolaLoo
Summary: After a woman stumbles on to the Strip and dies, the team are dragged into the underbelly of amateur film making, affairs and deceit, leaving two CSIs in fear for their lives. Bad summary but you get the gist...
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE:

John O'Connor was finally driving home after a terrible day at work. Cruising down the strip, the familiar bright lights of the casinos cheered him up as always. It had been his dream to live in Las Vegas his whole life, ever since he first saw the bright colours and heard the melodic chimes of the slot machines that made Sin City. Smiling to himself, he let the happy memories of his time in Vegas drift through his mind and accompany him on his way home.

Suddenly, his brakes added to the bright lights around him as he screeched to a halt, narrowly missing the half-naked woman stumbling into the road ahead. Ignoring the beeping of cars behind him, John clambered out and followed her as she continued across the road.

"Miss? Miss, are you ok?"

She stopped in her tracks, her ripped blouse and skirt flapping around her in the breeze as she rocked on her heels. John stepped closer to her, intensely aware of the cars that had stopped around them and the bystanders pointing and staring from the sidewalk. He took another step forward, reaching his hand out towards her back.

"Miss? Are you alright? Do you need help?"

Somewhere in the distance, sirens sounded. The woman did not move but John heard a strange metallic thud. Looking down at the asphalt, John heard himself gasp as he locked eyes on a gun. He raised his eyes to her back, watching the blood seeping through the shreds of her clothing.

Slowly, she turned as the sirens grew louder. Her eyes were wide, their blueness intense against the deep red of the blood that was flowing like tears. Her lips were moving but over the wailing of the sirens and blaring horns, John could not hear what she was trying to say. Wary of the gun on the ground, he did not move forwards.

"Miss, I can't hear you. What are you trying to say?"

The woman fell to her knees and John rushed towards her, catching her as she fell forwards. He turned her so she was facing up at him, not even noticing the blood spreading all over his clothes.

"You're gonna be ok, everything's gonna be ok."

Her mouth opened, her breathe ragged as she tried to speak. He leaned in closer, ignoring the paramedics and police running towards them.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you."

He leaned in closer, so close his cheek was almost touching her bloody lips as the paramedics asked him to move away. He looked up at them and the cops, shaking his head slowly.

"It's too late. She's gone."

Crime Scene Investigators Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows stood over the body lying in the middle of the road, examining the half-naked woman without touching her. Catherine turned to her old friend, an eyebrow raised.

"What are you thinking?"

He shrugged slightly, looking around them.

"I'm thinking she had to come from somewhere and walking down the strip this time of night, someone must have seen her."

Catherine shook her head in disbelief.

"And should have helped her. So much for good Samaritans."

Grissom crouched down next to the woman's head and pointed at her face.

"Did you see this? It looks like her eyes were bleeding."

Catherine crouched down beside him.

"Yeah. She probably couldn't see a thing."

Grissom turned to look at her.

"Just like half the people in this town. You follow the big bright lights, you just get blinded."


	2. Chapter 2

The graveyard shift were gathered in the break room, sipping cups of coffee and browsing newspapers as they waited for Grissom. Sara Sidle glanced over at Nick Stokes with a slight smile.

"You alright? You look tired."

He looked up from the newspaper with a shrug.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep today is all."

Warrick Brown grinned as he glanced up from the report he was writing.

"You been entertaining a new lady friend?"

Nick smiled and shook his head.

"I wish, man, I wish!"

Grissom marched into the break room, carrying a file and a small stack of papers.

"Right, assignments. Catherine, you and I are sticking with the DB from the strip."

She stood, taking the file he passed to her and started looking through it. Grissom moved over to the table and handed Sara her assignment.

"Sara, you need to head over to Desert Palms. A woman on the critical list there was shot during what looks like a home invasion gone bad. Neighbour lady called it in. Apparently, she heard gun shots and shouting while she was doing her laundry. The husband's dead in the house over in Henderson and the wife's probably not going to make it."

Sara nodded slowly as Nick got up and crossed over to her.

"I'll take a piece of that."

Grissom nodded as he passed over to Warrick at the table.

"Good. Warrick, I know you've got court so when you've finished preparing for that, I'll need you to give me and Catherine a hand."

"Sure. I'm prepared for the prelim so I should be available pretty soon."

Grissom headed for the door.

"Good, so let's get to work."

Nick and Sara travelled to Desert Palms Hospital practically in silence, but it was comfortable rather than awkward. Nick tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the classic country songs playing in his head while Sara stared out the window. He glanced over at her now and then but she seemed deep in thought.

Arriving at the hospital, they went to the front desk. While waiting in the queue, Sara glanced around her. Turning to Nick, she realised that he was staring off in to the distance at something. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked almost pale.

Sara laid a gentle hand on his arm and he blinked rapidly, as if he was just realising where he was.

"Nick, are you ok?"

He turned his eyes to her and she was surprised by the intense emotion there. He opened his mouth to speak but all Sara heard was a female voice.

"Can I help you folks?"

Sara nodded, turning her gaze from her friend to the receptionist.

"Hi, yeah we're with the Las Vegas crime lab. We're looking for a Mrs Joanne Davenport? She was brought in about an hour ago with a gunshot wound to the head."

The receptionist typed rapidly in to the computer and nodded.

"She's in the ICU right now. Doctor Pirelli is the attending physician if you have any questions. Just take the lift to the third floor and turn right."

"Thanks."

Sara turned, about to ask Nick what was wrong but he looked fine again. He simply nodded and led the way to the elevator without another word. Sara decided not to press it. She knew that she was hardly best friends with the guy so he may not want to talk about whatever was wrong. She knew there were plenty of things that she would never say to him.

Reaching the ICU, the pair quickly found who they were looking for. Nick marched over to him.

"Dr Pirelli? I'm Nick Stokes from the crime lab, this is Sara Sidle. We're here about Mrs Davenport."

The doctor nodded, tucking a clipboard under his arm as he spoke.

"Of course. I'm afraid you're a little late though. Mrs Davenport died a matter of minutes after she got here."

"Cause of death?"

"Well, the gun shot to the head left the bullet lodged in her brain. Even if she hadn't of bled out, she would have been a vegetable. There were a number of broken ribs too, which contributed to massive internal bleeding, not to mention the spinal injuries. We haven't moved her as yet though so if you need to process her, she's just through here."

They followed him in to a small room. A gurney stood in the centre with the figure of a woman shrouded by a sheet. The doctor excused himself as Sara placed her field kit on the counter. Nick pulled on a pair of gloves and shot her a look.

"You know she may have been cleaned when she got to the ER. We may not find much."

Sara shrugged as she turned, facing him across the gurney.

"Well, a little is all we need." She waved a hand over the sheet. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

He pulled the sheet down past the victim's shoulders with a flourish and let out a low whistle. With the obvious exception of the large gunshot wound through her head, Mrs Davenport was exceptionally pretty. She had perfect cheekbones and her chestnut hair had a red tint. It was obvious that she took great pride in her appearance.

Sara delicately brushed a few tendrils away from the entry wound, examining it carefully.

"It looks like we've got some unburnt gunpowder here and possibly a muzzle stamp where the gun was pressed against her head."

Something caught her eye and she used tweezers to delicately remove tiny pieces of evidence from her hair. Nick glanced up at her.

"What've you got?"

"It looks like shards of glass. From a window maybe."

"Perhaps she went through one."

Sara arched an eyebrow at him as she dropped a couple of shards into an evidence envelope.

"Based on?"

He raised the woman's right hand off the table, showing that her whole arm was a bloody mess.

"She has wounds all over hands and her forearms. They're filled with glass fragments. Wait a minute…"

Nick looked closer at her hand and grabbed a small evidence envelope.

"It looks like there's skin under her nails."

Sara grinned.

"Bonus! Told you all we needed was a little and we've got a lot here."

Nick smiled at her and nodded.

"Right as ever, Sara. Bet there's even more over at the house."

"Lead the way cowboy."

He snapped the latex gloves off his hands and Sara could have sworn he winked at her.

"Yeeha!"

Catherine entered the autopsy room where the woman from the Strip was laid out on cold steel, Grissom and Dr Robbins looking over her while deep in discussion about a new article in the Forensic Science Journal. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Sorry about that, guys. It was Warrick on the phone. He's done in court and he'll meet us back in the lab. Where're we up to on the Jane Doe?"

Doc Robbins handed her a thin manila file.

"Well, first of all, she's not a Jane Doe anymore. We got a hit off the dental records. Her name is Michelle Winters, a student at UCLA who was here on vacation. She was reported missing about two weeks ago when she failed to show for the new semester. We'll still need a positive ID from the family though. Her parents are flying in from LA."

Grissom nodded slowly.

"Any ideas on cause of death yet, doc?"

"Well, I've only conducted a preliminary exam so far but she has a number of what appear to be knife wounds across her torso."

He pointed down at her chest to each of the six wounds. Catherine leaned in for a closer look.

"Did she bleed out?"

Doc Robbins shrugged.

"Right now, I don't think so seeing as the wounds seem to have miraculously missed all her vital organs and major blood vessels. They seem to be consistent with some kind of sharp weapon, probably some kind of knife. The bruising round the entry wounds show that hilt hit her skin, implying a lot of force was used."

Catherine glanced at him.

"Well, stabbings are usually personal meaning the guy would be angry so a lot of force is pretty standard."

"Exactly. The worse looking injuries though have actually been inflicted on her eyes. Some kind of thin, sharp object was inserted into the tear ducts and surrounding area. It would have seemed like she was crying tears of blood."

Catherine examined the dead woman's face.

"Maybe a syringe or some kind of needle? Could it have penetrated the brain?"

"I'll know more when I've conducted a full autopsy but I have seen something like this once before. A man tried to give his girlfriend a frontal lobotomy."

Grissom arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"A frontal lobotomy? Why?"

Doc Robbins shrugged.

"She was a paranoid schizophrenic. He was apparently trying to drain of the voices in her head. Why it would have happened in this case, I have no idea. I've sent some samples up to trace for you though. I found what appears to be adhesive residue on her wrists and ankles."

Grissom took a closer look and then raised his eyes to his colleagues.

"She was bound. There seems to be ligature marks as well."

Robbins nodded and pointed to the young woman's head.

"Not to mention that there's something in her hair, some kind of fibres. I was about to examine them more carefully when you two arrived."

Grissom and Catherine both moved to the head of the table. He leaned in close with a magnifying glass as she handed him a pair of tweezers. Slowly and carefully, he removed a number of brightly coloured fibres from her hair. Catherine squinted at them and sighed.

"Any ideas, Gil? They look pretty thick for clothing and I hardly think anyone has orange, red, green and purple carpet. Well, unless they're stuck in the psychedelic seventies."

He shrugged and dropped it into an evidence bag.

"Take it over to Trace and we'll soon find out."

She nodded and headed to the door, pausing halfway into the corridor.

"Aren't you coming?"

Grissom let a half smile spread across his lips.

"We were just about to use Doc's new bone saw to see if we can extract an old bullet from a decomposing body. It's complicated but fascinating."

Catherine just grinned at them as she left, shaking her head as she strolled up the corridor.

"Boys and their toys…"

Nick and Sara pulled up outside the Davenport house and both stared at it in disbelief. Sara shook her head.

"It's… It's a mansion."

Nick nodded quickly, his mouth hanging open.

"Uh huh. Makes you wish we got the big bucks, huh."

Sara arched a sarcastic eyebrow at him.

"Hey, you're a CSI level 3 remember? You already get paid more than me."

Nick shrugged as they climbed out of the Tahoe and made their way up the paved driveway.

"With all that overtime you put in, I'd say we're pretty much equal."

Sara just grinned, already used to the jibes about her commitment to the job.

"What can I say? I love my work. Hey Brass."

Brass glanced up from his notebook with a grim smile.

"Hey guys. DB inside the bedroom is a Mr James Davenport, 46 six years of age. Gunshot wound to the head. Looks like forced entry through the front door."

The pair followed Brass into the house and immediately stopped on the threshold, crouching down to examine the muddy footprints leading through the hall. Nick laid down evidence markers and pulled out a tape measure.

"They look like boots, ball parking it at a size eleven."

Sara nodded and snapped photos of the tracks while Nick looked at the damage to the door. Another muddy footprint was obvious which, coupled with the broken lock and shattered wood, showed that someone had kicked the door in. Brass simply raised an eyebrow.

"Subtle, don't you think? The muddy brick road leads all the way up to the bedroom."

Nick started up the stairs as Sara continued processing the hallway and the front door. Careful to walk close to the walls, he crossed the landing and followed the boot prints in to the master bedroom. He paused, taking in the whole scene.

The husband lay face up on the bed, almost spread-eagled. The sheets around his head were soaked with blood and splatter had been cast across the headboard and the wall above. Typical bedroom objects were strewn across the floor all around the bed, including broken lamps, trampled clothes and jewellery. To the left, a television set had been smashed to pieces. On the right, the door to the bathroom stood ajar, casting a shard of light across a blood pool on the carpet and more splatter on the wall near where Nick was standing. Brass appeared behind him.

"I already checked out the bathroom. There aren't any obvious signs of disturbance or any blood. It looks like the couple were in bed when the guy broke in. He came straight up here, shot the husband on the bed and then the wife where that stain is on the carpet. Looks like he ransacked the place too, but nothing's obviously missing. All the valuable stuff just seems to be smashed to pieces. None of the other rooms have been touched. What are you thinking?"

Nick glanced over his shoulder at him.

"I'm thinking how did the intruder know exactly where the bedroom was?"

"He'd been here before?"

"I'd bet on it. So that might make this whole thing personal instead of burglary."

"Or that the guy cased the joint before hand. Either way, I'll see if anyone had a grudge against them."

Brass disappeared back down the stairs and Nick carefully entered the room. Sara arrived behind him, slipping the print lifts she had taken into evidence envelopes as she walked.

"Looks like someone had a tantrum."

Nick glanced up at her and pointed to the lamp on the floor.

"Look at this. The muddy footprints stop here before moving off towards the bed at a slightly different angle and the lamp is just to the left of them. There was a lamp on either side of the bed but the right one is missing."

Sara nodded slowly, the scene playing out in the mind.

_Mr and Mrs Davenport are asleep in bed. A creak outside the bedroom makes them stir and Mrs Davenport sits up, just as the door flies open and a man enters. She screams and throws a lamp towards him. The intruder ducks and it misses by a mile._

"So the guy walked in the door and either Mr or Mrs Davenport threw a lamp at him?"

"I think so."

"Not much use if he's pointing a gun at you."

Nick moved to the right corner of the bed, eyeing the space between Mr Davenport's body and the bloodstain on the carpet.

"So, if he shot the husband in bed, why did Mrs Davenport get shot way over there?"

Sara followed Nick's gaze and then turned to the doorway behind her.

_After throwing the lamp, Mrs Davenport is terrified and jumps out of the bed. Mr Davenport sits up and the intruder walks straight towards him, the gun pointed towards his head. One shot rings out and Mrs Davenport screams, running towards the open doorway._

"She was heading away from it all, trying to escape."

"But he would have been stood right about where you are, Sara. With a gun. She must have known that she'd get shot too."

Sara shrugged, her eyes focused on the pool of blood.

"She just watched her husband get shot. She was panicking. Fight or flight instinct takes over. If she can get past him, there's a chance she'll live. If she stays, she knows she'll end up like her husband."

"Which is why we've got a DB at Desert Palms."

Sara carefully made her way across to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. Leaving Nick behind her to process the bed, she looked around the gleaming white surfaces.

"This bathroom is almost as big as my apartment."

She heard Nick laugh from the other room.

"Tell me about it. But just remember Sara, money can't buy you happiness. I think the Davenport's prove that."

Sara was examining the sink when something caught her eye. She pulled a swab from her evidence kit and gently swiped it across the tap. She dropped some phenolphthalein on to it and it turned purple. Next, she swabbed the inside of the drain and did the same process. Again, it turned purple.

"Positive for blood in the sink. I'm thinking the killer washed up in here before he left."

She looked around the bathroom again with a slight frown.

"He took the towels too."

She exited the bathroom and grabbed the ALS. Turning out the lights and putting on the orange glasses, she started to scan the room. There were swirls of blood in the sink and drips on the tiles beneath it. She continued on towards the toilet, lifting the lid to find a deep glow.

"I got semen."

Nick appeared in the doorway.

"Down the toilet? From someone throwing their rubber jacket away you think? It could easily be the husband though."

Sara pulled a face as she lowered the swab down the toilet to get a sample of the stain.

"We'll soon find out. You got anything?"

Nick gestured back over his shoulder.

"The blood splatter on the headboard and the wall suggests that Mr Davenport was sat up when he was shot. And he was surrounded by glass."

Sara looked up at him.

"Glass? We found that all over his wife."

"Exactly. The ceiling above the bed was mirrored. I'm thinking the intruder fired a warning shot, letting the glass shatter all over the Davenports, maybe before the wife threw the lamp at him."

Sara shook her head.

"But that doesn't explain how the wounds on her arms were filled with glass. Mirrored glass has that kind of silver backing to make it reflect."

Nick turned back to the bedroom, grinning at her over his shoulder.

"Well, we've only just got started. And anyway, everyone loves a mystery."


	3. Chapter 3

Catherine was explaining what she and Grissom had found so far to Warrick when Greg sauntered in.

"Hey guys, how's it going?"

Catherine shrugged.

"Slow. We've got some stuff in Trace and DNA are checking the blood stains on Michelle's shirt."

"Well, considering how busy you've all been, I decided to check out what Michelle was doing before she died, where she stayed, all that boring stuff you couldn't be bothered to track down…"

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"My heart bleeds, Greg. What did you get?"

He waved a file in front of her tantalisingly.

"Do I get a 'Thank you, Greg, you're so kind and thoughtful and damn cute' first?"

Warrick snatched the file from his hand and quickly glanced through it.

"No. She was staying at The Sphere, checked out two weeks ago."

Greg glared at Warrick.

"Yeah, and she had a roommate. A girl called Beth Greene, her best friend since High School. O'Riley's bringing her in now."

Warrick snapped the file shut and grinned at Catherine.

"We better get going then, huh?"

She followed him out of the room, pausing in front of Greg.

"Thank you, Greg. You're so kind, thoughtful and… well, damn cute."

She left the layout room and Greg grinned, flicking up the collar on his lab coat.

"Can I help it if I'm so irresistible to the ladies?"

Nick reappeared in the bathroom doorway and laughed as he looked down at Sara's ass pointing up in the air.

"Well, I should have known an expensive house like this would have beautiful views too."

Sara turned to look up at him, her expression half smile, half annoyance.

"You having fun down there?"

"Oh yeah, great fun. Did you find anything in the bedroom."

Nick shrugged, leaning on the doorframe, watching as Sara kept examining the floor around the bath.

"The whole place is such a huge mess, I'm thinking there must have been a pretty big struggle. Maybe the guy killed the husband and then decided to try it on with the wife but she put up a fight."

Sara leaned over the side of the bath, her voice becoming strangely echoed.

"That could explain why the wife died so far away from her husband but…"

Her words trailed off and Nick stepped forward.

"What've you got?"

Sara turned, something small held in her tweezers.

"Shards of glass. Not many though, suggesting someone tried to clean up the mess."

Nick leant in for a closer look.

"But they forgot the glass in Mrs Davenport's wounds, not to mention all the mess out there. So if he attacked the wife in here, why isn't there more blood?"

Sara arched an eyebrow, pointing at the metal frame on the side of the bath.

"I'm guessing there was a glass screen here. As for blood, I didn't ALS the tub. Pass me the luminol please and hit the lights."

Nick did as he was asked and after a few sprays, the whole bathroom took on an eerie glow.

"So, Joanna went through the screen, leaving glass in her wounds and blood in the tub."

Sara nodded, swabbing the blood stain.

"Guess we'd better get all this back to the lab then."

Catherine and Warrick sat with Beth Greene in the waiting area of the police department. Catherine handed her one of the photos of Michelle the coroner had taken in the morgue and she broke down. Both Warrick and Catherine averted their eyes and waited until she was ready to talk.

"We're very sorry for your loss, Miss Greene."

Beth raised her bloodshot eyes to Catherine, sniffing as her lower lip trembled. When she spoke, it sounded like she was choking back the tears.

"But I don't understand. I mean, I know she was missing but I thought something happened to her back in LA. We had such a good time here."

Catherine gave Beth a sympathetic but reassuring smile.

"When was the last time you saw Michelle?"

"Just over two weeks ago. She dropped me off at the airport before going straight to the bus station. She was getting the coach back to LA because now she was a student, she had to save money."

Warrick nodded.

"Are you a student too?"

Beth nodded, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue and avoiding looking at the photo in her hands.

"Yes, but I went to Harvard to do law. She decided to stay near to home. She loves her parents, they're a really close knit family. _Were_ close-knit…"

Catherine nodded slowly.

"So, when Michelle dropped you off at the airport, did she say anything to make you think she might want to stay in Vegas or not go back to school?"

Beth paused.

"She loved school and she loved being in LA, but then she met Mark. That was why she wanted us to come on vacation here, so she could see him again. I don't know why though, he didn't exactly treat her well."

Warrick was taking notes.

"Do you know Mark's surname or where she met him?"

"Erm… I think she said they met in one of the casino bars and that he was this high-roller type, always flashing his cash you know? And his surname was Boreman. I only remember that because he had one of those stupid vanity plates on his car, B Man I think. Michelle thought it was great though. She got him to drop me off at the airport, showing off his flash sports car. We couldn't even say our goodbyes without him there."

Catherine smiled at Beth.

"I take it you didn't really approve of him then?"

Beth shook her head vehemently.

"He was always pretty nice to us but it was just a little _too_ nice, you know? Like he was just showing off all the time. Plus, I guess I got a little annoyed that Michelle ditched me for him a couple of times. She always apologised and I forgave her for it but there's only so many times you can be left alone in a city you don't know before it gets a bit much. Mark would just tell me I was being stupid though, that I was boring. He was just so, well, just so creepy. I shouldn't have left her with him."

Beth's voice had begun to break again.

"Can you tell me where the ladies room is please?"

Catherine directed her and watched her walk away.

"Poor girl. I can't tell who she blames more for this, herself or this Mark guy."

Warrick nodded.

"I'll get O'Riley to track him down. With a number plate like that, it shouldn't be too hard."

Catherine sighed as she slid the autopsy photo of Michelle back into the file.

"Well, according to the coach passenger manifest that Greg got, Michelle booked a ticket but never got on. That makes Mark Boreman our number one suspect."

Warrick stood, dialling O'Riley's number on his cell phone.

"We better find him quick then."

Doc Robbins opened the freezer door, rolling out the metal table on which Michelle was lying. He looked up at her parents, both of whom were crying. Her mother took a step forward, brushing blonde tendrils away from her daughter's face. Her lips trembled as she nodded.

"That's her, that's our baby."

Mr Winters put a protective arm around his wife's shoulders, shaking as she sobbed against his neck. Doctor Robbins pulled the sheet back over Michelle's head and slid her body back into the freezer. Shutting it gently, he turned back to the parents who were staring at the name taped to the metal door.

"I'm so very sorry for your loss."

He watched as they left, slowly making their way out of the morgue. As they emerged out in to the corridor, Grissom approached them.

"Mr and Mrs Winters? My name is Gil Grissom. I'm one of the Criminalists investigating your daughter's case. You have our deepest condolences."

Mrs Winter's looked at him blindly through her tears, clutching a childhood photo of Michelle and a postcard she had sent from Vegas, while her husband just nodded mutely.

Grissom took a step closer to them, unable to take his eyes off the baby girl with pigtails in the photograph.

"I just wanted to let you know that we are doing everything we can to find out what happened."

Mr Winter's cleared his throat, squeezing his wife's shoulders reassuringly.

"She's such a good girl, Mr Grissom. She rings us at least once a week, always telling us what she's been up to. She even sent us a postcard while she was here. Why would anyone want to hurt our little Michelle?"

Grissom looked the father straight in the eye.

"I don't know yet, Mr Winters, but I will. And once I do, I'll be able to explain it all to you."

Mr Winters nodded slowly as his wife raised her bloodshot eyes to Grissom.

"She was our baby. We were meant to protect her. She was so bright, so bubbly and clever, but so well-behaved. She never gave us any trouble but we still didn't save her."

Grissom's jaw clenched and he gave both parents his solemn word.

"I promise you that we will find who did this and bring them to justice. It's my job to speak for those who can no longer speak for themselves and I swear, I will speak for Michelle."

Mr and Mrs Winters nodded in thanks and walked away, the wife's sobs echoing back down the corridor and straight to Grissom's heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick and Sara were sat in the break room grabbing a quick cup of coffee when they were paged. Strolling in to the DNA lab, they found Greg trying to chat up Mia. Seeing the others approaching, Greg winked at Mia and left, clutching some results.

"I'd better go deliver these to Catherine. She thinks I'm cute, you know. That woman has taste."

Nick shook his head and grinned.

"You got something for us, Mia?"

She handed them both the results of the tests she had run.

"I compared the semen you found in the toilet to James Davenport and it came back as no match. The DNA sample wasn't in CODIS either."

Sara arched an eyebrow.

"Really? If the semen came from the intruder that means he probably raped her. I was sure he'd be a repeat offender. Home invasion usually evolves from burglaries."

Mia shrugged.

"Well, if the guy has done something like this before, he was clever enough not to leave any evidence behind or get caught."

Nick nodded slowly.

"What about the skin under the fingernails? Did that come back unknown too?"

Mia slid another piece of paper across the desk and Sara picked it up.

"It came back to the husband?"

Mia nodded with a slight grin.

"Maybe she liked it rough."

Sara looked at Nick.

"Maybe she did. Maybe the intruder interrupted the Davenport's steamy little session, kills the husband and decides to have some fun with the wife before he kills her too."

Nick sighed, a frown creasing his features.

"Or maybe Joanna was having an affair. The other man walks in, finds the Davenports are still very much involved, gets jealous, kills the husband and then attacks the wife."

Sara nodded.

"That would explain the broken glass partition in the bathroom and the blood so far away from the husband, if she was running away from the killer."

Nick grinned.

"Guess we'd better go make an appointment with Doc Robbins."

Greg found Catherine and Grissom in the layout room, looking over the autopsy photos of Michelle.

"I've got the DNA test results for you."

Catherine and Grissom looked up at him in unison.

"Well, let's hear them then."

"Ok, when Doc Robbins examined the body he found no signs of rape but he did find semen, which came back to an unknown donor. That same donor provided one of the blood samples on Michelle's shirt. The major donor was obviously the victim herself. But there was a small amount coming back to a third male donor."

Greg passed the results over to Catherine. Grissom tapped the arm of his glasses against his lips as he thought.

"Maybe Mark Boreman had an accomplice, another man."

Catherine glanced up from the results.

"That would certainly make it easier to attack her and get her tied down. After all, there were no drugs or alcohol in her system. Plus, knife-weilding killers have a tendency to cut themselves which could explain the blood."

Warrick stuck his head round the layout room door.

"O'Riley's tracked down Mark Boreman. They're over at PD now."

Catherine grinned at Grissom.

"Well, we'd better not keep them waiting then."

Doc Robbins stood at the head of the two autopsy tables, Mr and Mrs Davenport laid out in front of him. Nick and Sara stood between the two tables, looking at the bodies.

"So, what've you got for us Doc?"

He pointed to Joanna Davenport.

"Ladies first. Obviously, the cause of death was the gunshot wound to the temple but she sustained a large number of injuries before that. She had serious internal bleeding due to a number of cracked ribs."

He passed both of them x-rays of Joanna's chest.

"At first I thought it was some kind of blunt force trauma but after examining the damage to her neck, I think it's more likely that she was being strangled with someone's knee on her chest. He would have been putting all his weight on her. In fact, the damage to her neck was so extensive that her vertebrae nearly fractured, not to mention the typical petechial haemorrhaging in the eyes associated with strangulation."

Sara examined the hand-shaped bruises around Joanna's throat.

"He broke her neck?"

"Not quite. She would have had full range of movement but it would have been incredibly painful. As for the skin you found under her nails, I think it came from here."

Robbins pointed at scratches on James' neck and forearms. Nick shot a look at Sara.

"Those aren't from rough sex, are they Doc?"

"No, and neither are the bruises to his knuckles. It seems that he punched his wife in the chest and the head. The muzzle stamp from the gun shot wound hid the bruise. The husband also has numerous cuts across his shoulders and the back of his neck. I found a few shards of what appears to be mirrored glass. Was there a mirror above the bed?"

Nick nodded and looked at Sara.

"Care to revise our theory? It's pretty obvious that the husband attacked his wife before either of them got shot."

Sara nodded slowly, playing it all out in her mind.

_James is yelling at Joanna beside the bed. When she slaps him, he follows her into the bathroom. The argument escalates and he pushes her through the glass shower partition. Bleeding and afraid, Joanna runs back in to the bedroom where James punches her in the side of the head and she falls on to the bed dazed. James climbs on top of her and strangles her. Struggling for air, Joanna claws at her husband's hands and neck. _

"So, if he was strangling her on the bed, then that means that the intruder probably fired the shot at the mirror as a warning for him to stop. As soon as Joanna was free of him and out of the way, the intruder shot James in the head."

Nick looked unconvinced.

"But if this guy killed James to protect Joanna, why did she end up dead too? And why was the intruder there in the first place?"

Doc Robbins cleared his throat.

"I don't mean to confuse you two even more but the gun shot wound to Mrs Davenport's temple is inconclusive. The contact wound, muzzle stamp and angle could just as easily be suicide as murder."

Sara sighed heavily.

"She'd just seen her husband get shot, maybe she killed herself."

Nick stared at the bodies.

"That still doesn't explain the semen. It wasn't the husband's. Maybe the intruder was someone she was having an affair with. That would explain the semen, the argument and why the intruder would shoot James to protect Joanna."

Sara nodded slowly.

"That makes sense."

Doc Robbins pulled the sheets up over the faces of the Davenports.

"Well, personally I think once you find your intruder, you find your answers."

Grissom, Catherine and O'Riley faced off across the interview room with Mark Boreman. He sat there with his legs wide apart and arms crossed, his eyes roaming round the room. Catherine shared a look with Grissom, both obviously thinking that he was just too cocky for his own good.

O'Riley slid the autopsy photos of Michelle across the table. Mark grimaced but examined the photographs with macabre interest. He looked up at the officer's opposite him, shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"Guess you talked to that Beth bitch, huh? Yeah, I knew Michelle. We met a while back and we hooked up a few weeks ago when she was here on vacation. So what?"

Catherine rolled her eyes and leaned forward.

"So, now she's lying in the morgue. Michelle Winters is dead and as far as we know, you were the last person to see her alive."

Mark shrugged.

"So what?"

O'Riley shook his head in disbelief.

"Haven't you ever seen any cop shows? That makes you our prime suspect."

For a second, Grissom thought he saw a flash of fear in Mark's eyes before he shrugged again.

"Why should I care? I didn't do anything wrong. I met the girl, had a bit of fun then dropped her off at the coach station. To be honest, I was glad to be rid of her. She was way too clingy, wanting to see me again and all that. I guess the girl's just can't resist the B-Man."

He winked at Catherine who rolled her eyes.

"Well, speaking as a woman, you know what I find really fun?"

Mark leaned forward, a leer plastered to his face as his eyes roamed her body.

"Well beautiful, I think I've got a pretty good idea."

Catherine pulled out a swab from the evidence kit at her feet, waving it in his face.

"No, you really don't. I was gonna take your DNA."

Mark leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

"I don't think so. You're not coming anywhere near me with that"

Grissom glared at the obnoxious young man.

"Mr Boreman, this is the perfect way to prove your innocence."

"Or the perfect way for you to frame me. You cops are all the same. I ain't giving you nothing."

He swung his feet on to the table and glared right back at Grissom. Exasperated, the investigators left the interview room, meeting Warrick as he emerged from behind the one way glass. Warrick shook his head in disbelief.

"That kid is definitely hiding something."

Grissom nodded.

"He's our guy. He killed Michelle."

Catherine arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"That's not like you, Gil. What about waiting to see what the evidence has to say? He could easily have done just what he said. After dropping her off at the coach station, we have no idea what could have happened to Michelle."

Grissom's eyes narrowed.

"Sometimes it's the lack of evidence too, Catherine. He refuses to give a DNA sample even though he knows he's a suspect. He was sexually active with Michelle before she turns up dead and her best friend said he didn't treat her particularly well. He took a young girl's life for no reason other than his own satisfaction."

O'Riley sighed.

"I agree with you, Grissom, I think we all do. But we can't hold this kid for more than a couple more hours with just circumstantial evidence, especially if he calls in an attorney."

Warrick suddenly grinned.

"I don't think we'll need to keep him longer than that. Look."

He pointed through the window. In the interview room, Mark had sparked up a cigarette.

"That butt will be prime for DNA and we're well within our rights to take it once he stubs it out, long as it stays in plain sight."

Catherine flicked her hair over her shoulder with a sultry smile.

"Stand back gentlemen and let the lady do her thing."

She marched back into the interview room and stopped beside Mark with a sharp look in her eye. One hand on the table beside her, she leaned in close, ignoring the bluish tendrils snaking round her head.

"This is a non smoking building. Put that out or I'll have one more thing to put you in handcuffs for."

Mark blew his smoke over Catherine's shoulder and then grinned, his nose just an inch or so from hers.

"You can put me in handcuffs anytime you want, baby. I've always loved the older woman."

He stabbed the cigarette out against the edge of the table and flicked it near the door. Catherine smiled and stood straight up, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes.

"Thank you."

She started to walk away to pick up the butt when Mark jumped to his feet. She stopped and turned to him.

"Something wrong?"

Mark opened his mouth, paused and then snapped it shut again. Catherine took a step towards him.

"Mr Boreman? Is something wrong?"

He was unable to look her in the eye when his quiet voice finally emerged.

"I didn't kill Michelle. She was a sweet girl. I did like her, you know, but she was just a distraction, a way to get over someone else. Someone I went running back to anyway. Michelle realised that and I know she was upset but we parted on good terms. Just cos I wasn't in love with her doesn't mean I would've hurt her."

Catherine was surprised by the sudden change from the overly-confident, cocky B-Man to the timid, almost boyish Mark. She took another step towards him.

"What do you mean when you said you parted on good terms? You said before that she wanted to stay with you in Vegas."

Mark shrugged and collapsed back in to the chair, staring at the floor.

"She did want to stay but at the coach station I explained to her about the situation with my ex. Michelle, well, she cried a bit, she thought we were going somewhere, you know? But she encouraged me to go back to my ex and sort things out. I asked if we could just be friends and she laughed, she had a great laugh, and said yes."

He touched the photo of Michelle, gently brushing her face and looked up at Catherine.

"I swear I didn't hurt her. At least, not in the way that you think…"

Mark's voice trailed off and he looked away, blinking back tears. Catherine walked towards the door, pausing to discreetly push the cigarette butt into an evidence bag with her pen while pretending to tie her shoelace. Opening the door, she glanced at Mark.

He cleared his throat and folded his arms, obviously trying to put back on the cockiness he had displayed before but failed miserably.

Back out in the corridor, she met up with Grissom and handed him the evidence.

"I'm starting to doubt he did it, Gil."

Grissom pursed his lips and looked back through the window at Mark. Catherine followed his gaze.

"Gil, look at him. He's genuinely upset, scared even."

Grissom shook his head, his intense gaze now falling on Catherine.

"Scared of being caught maybe. People will say anything to stay out of prison."

Catherine threw her hands up in exasperation.

"And sometimes they tell the truth about what happened and I really don't think he did anything to Michelle except turn her down. Why are you so focused on him, Gil? What about the evidence?"

Grissom glanced at the cigarette butt in his hand.

"The evidence will either prove or disprove his guilt. But someone tortured Michelle Winters and killed her. She did nothing to deserve that. By all accounts, she was a friendly, well-behaved young woman with her whole future ahead of her till someone tore it away."

He marched away, leaving Catherine to worry in his wake.


	5. Chapter 5

Catherine sat in the break room, cradling a cup of coffee and deep in thought. She was worried about Grissom. Her old friend seemed to be taking the Michelle Winters case far too personally, which was something he never did. He was always the objective one, the one who waited for the evidence to tell its story. Catherine took a sip of the coffee and closed her eyes, hoping the hot bitterness would drown some of her worries.

Catherine's eyes flew open as she felt someone touch her shoulder. She looked up and straight in to Warrick's concerned eyes. He took a seat beside her.

"Is everything ok, Cath?"

She sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just tired. We are pulling a double again."

Warrick leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

"Uh huh, and you expect me to buy that? We're always pulling these damn doubles. You're worried about Grissom, aren't you?"

She glanced at him with a frown.

"What are you talking about?"

"Please, even O'Riley's noticed how hung up Grissom is on this Mark Boreman guy. It's not like him. And it's not like you to be sat in here on your own worrying about stuff. So, I put two and two together and hopefully didn't come up with five."

Catherine laughed.

"No, once again you're spot on. I just can't talk to Grissom when he gets like this and I'm worried it's affecting his judgement. What if Mark is innocent and Grissom just keeps pushing it? The real killer could just slip away."

Warrick nodded slowly and then shrugged.

"If the evidence says Mark's innocent then Grissom will accept that. He's not stupid, Catherine, and you know it. He gets like this when kids are involved, it gets him angry."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess me worrying doesn't change anything anyway."

"Exactly."

Warrick got up to pour himself a cup of coffee while Catherine sipped her own and grimaced.

"I always forget just how awful this sludge is."

Warrick laughed.

"Tell me about it. I really wanna know where Greg keeps that special stash of his. That stuff is good."

"And expensive."

Greg's voice made both of them jump.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Just came by to give you some results, seeing as I seem to have turned into your errand boy."

He sat down at the table opposite Catherine.

"You know you're not just an errand boy, Greg, it's just there's not that much for you to do right now."

He shrugged.

"Maybe there will be soon seeing as I've found out who the third blood donor on Michelle's shirt is."

Warrick sat down next to Catherine.

"Is it Mark?"

Greg shook his head and slid the results across the table. Warrick looked up at him with a frown.

"Who the hell is John O'Connor?"

"He's the guy who nearly ran Michelle over on the Strip. His DNA was on file after he was charged with DUI a few years back."

Catherine nodded slowly.

"So if he's the one that found her, couldn't that explain why there was some of his blood on Michelle?"

"Only if you can explain how he cut himself when he found her."

She stood, pulling on her jacket.

"We'd better go and explain it then hadn't we? Feel like doing some real work, Greggo?"

"Hell, yeah. Lead the way."

Warrick knocked on the bright blue door in Mesquite. It opened within a matter of seconds.

"John O'Connor?"

He looked at the trio in front of him with confusion.

"Yes. Can I help you folks?"

Catherine smiled as she introduced herself.

"I'm Catherine Willows from the Las Vegas crime lab. These are my colleagues Warrick Brown and Greg Saunders. We're investigating the circumstances surrounding Michelle Winters death and have a few questions for you. Do you mind if we come in?"

He held the door open and motioned them inside. In the living room, he offered them all a seat and settled on the armchair opposite them.

"Does anyone want a drink? Tea, coffee, orange juice? Or maybe something stronger?"

Catherine smiled and shook her head.

"No thank you Mr O'Connor. We're fine."

He nodded slowly, wringing his hands in his lap.

"So you want to know about Michelle then? I didn't even know her name till one of the officers told me."

"Can you tell us what happened, Mr O'Connor."

"Well, I was just driving home from work. It was a long day, a bad day. Loads of paperwork and red tape, you know? Anyway, I was on the Strip when this woman stumbled into the road. She was all messed up, her clothes ripped to shreds and hanging off her. I stopped the car and got out to ask her if she was ok. She stopped but didn't say anything. Then she dropped a gun on the road, which kinda freaked me out, especially when she turned around…"

Greg looked up from the notes he was taking.

"Why'd it freak you out when she turned round?"

John grimaced slightly at the memory.

"There was blood all over face. It looked like she was crying the stuff. Plus, you know, she had a gun and I hate anything like that, always have."

Catherine smiled reassuringly and motioned to him to carry.

"Sorry, well, I was a bit freaked out and all these cars had stopped behind me and were beeping and stuff. There were loads of people staring from the sidewalk too. I'm guessing one of them called the ambulance or something cos I could hear sirens. But then she started to fall forwards and I ran to catch her. It was too late though, she died right there."

Warrick leaned forward.

"Is that how you cut your hand, catching her?"

John looked down at the bandage round his left hand, a slight red stain tainting his knuckles.

"Oh, yeah. I grazed it on the asphalt. Nothing serious."

Catherine smiled and the three of them stood.

"Thank you for your time, Mr O'Connor. You've definitely helped."

He walked them to the door but paused as he opened it.

"Do you have any suspects, any idea at all who did that to her? She looked like she'd been tortured or something."

He swallowed hard and Catherine turned on the typical speech she had said a thousand times to a thousand different people.

"I'm afraid that the investigation is still ongoing so we can't discuss it."

He nodded slowly as the criminalists passed him.

"One more thing, Ms Willows. Before she died, when I was holding her, Michelle said something. She said "Avenge me". I hope you find the son of a bitch that hurt her, Ms Willows."

With that he closed the door and Catherine turned back to her male counterparts.

"Do you get the feeling that Mr O'Connor might be getting the urge to turn vigilante on us?"

Warrick shrugged.

"Well, we've all felt that urge at some point and would it really be so bad if he did? I mean, you saw what this guy did to Michelle. Poking at her eyes with a needle to try and give her a lobotomy? That's beyond cruelty. Maybe she does deserve to be avenged."

Catherine and Warrick started walking back to the Tahoe but Greg just stood there in front of the house, obviously deep in thought. Glancing over her shoulder, Catherine sighed.

"Hey Greg, come on!"

He trotted over to the car, his face serious but also slightly excited.

"Maybe Michelle didn't mean she wanted revenge."

Catherine and Warrick shared a look of confusion.

"She told Mr O'Connor to avenge her. I'd say she was hoping someone would hurt the guy who hurt her."

Greg shook his head violently.

"Well, yeah, she probably did but that might not be what she meant. 'Avenge Me' is the name of a company here in Vegas, 'Avenge Me Films'. They're an amateur group really, but made that documentary about showgirls a while back, you know, the one on CBS late night."

Warrick nodded.

"Yeah, I remember that but it could just be a coincidence."

"Maybe, but guess who owns the company."

Catherine shrugged.

"Some guy with too much spare time? Maybe a geek with too little personality or looks to meet the young and beautiful without an excuse?"

Greg rolled his eyes.

"I'm cracking the case here and you're not even playing. It's owned by a guy called Elijah Boreman, who I'm guessing might be Mark's brother."

Catherine grinned at him and grabbed his shoulders.

"God, I could kiss you right now! Let's go."

She climbed back in the Tahoe before she could see the enormous blush flood across Greg's cheeks.

Nick and Sara dropped the two pieces of glass in beakers of water at the exact same time and turned to each other with huge grins.

"The flotation test proves that the glass in Joanna's hair came from the glass shower partition in the en suite bathroom. That fits our theory that the husband attacked her and it got violent."

Sara nodded.

"So all we've got to do is figure out who the other guy was."

A familiar voice came from the doorway.

"I think I can help with that."

Nick and Sara turned in unison to be greeted with Mia waving a piece of paper at them.

"I was running simultaneous tests in the labs, trying to clear the day shift's backlog basically. Anyway, it meant that I was waiting for the results of your second semen donor while looking at something else. At first I thought I'd mixed up the DNA exemplars, so I ran it again. I actually ran it three times…"

Sara cut her off.

"Okay, okay, so what did you find? You get a name off CODIS?"

Mia shook her head and offered them the paper.

"Actually, no. I thought I'd got the samples mixed up because two results came back identical. Your semen donor is a match to a suspect in another case, Grissom's case about a woman who was tortured and killed."

Nick frowned as he passed the paper to Sara.

"The Michelle Winters case from the Strip?"

"That's the one. The suspect's name is Mark Boreman."

Sara grinned at her.

"We got our intruder. I guess we better go talk to him at PD."

Mia pulled a face.

"I think it's a bit late for that. I've just seen O'Riley. They had to release Boreman due to lack of evidence."

"Damn it!"

Nick raised a hand to calm her down.

"No Sara, it might be ok. We should call Brass and see if this new evidence gives us enough probable cause to go to his house. Even if he's decided to hide anything to do with Michelle Winters, he may have forgotten evidence to do with the Davenports."

Sara nodded, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

"It's worth a shot. I'll call Brass."

Mia craned her neck round the doorway.

"No need. He's on his way here."

Brass appeared behind Mia.

"Ever get the feeling that people have been talking about you right before you walk in to a room."

Nick grinned and handed him the DNA results.

"We think we may have found out who the intruder was. A suspect in another case actually. Mark Boreman."

Brass produced a piece of paper himself.

"Funny because I was coming to tell you I'd found the intruder too. The neighbour-lady who heard the gunshots looked out her window and saw a young man running away from the scene. She recognised him as the Davenport's yard boy and assumed he was just scared by the gun fire. I checked it out. The guy's name is Mark Boreman. And yeah, I already got us a warrant. Let's go make a house call."


	6. Chapter 6

Catherine and Warrick went straight to Grissom's office with Greg when they got back to the lab. Greg hovered behind the others as they settled in to the seats in front of Grissom's desk. He took off his glasses and folded his arms.

"So where are we on Michelle?"

Catherine started to fill him in.

"The third blood donor on Michelle's shirt was actually John O'Connor, the guy that found her on the strip. He grazed his hand when he caught her from falling to the ground."

"And what about the DNA results? They came back to Mark Boreman, didn't they?"

Catherine glanced at Warrick.

"Actually, no they didn't. In fact, Greg found us a potential suspect. Mark's brother, Elijah. He owns an amateur film company here in Vegas called 'Avenge Me', which just happens to be Michelle's last words. O'Riley's checked him out and he's got a rap sheet. He was arrested for drug's possession twice and not your normal ones either. Beyond a bit of crack, he also had twilight sleep. You know, what dentists used to use before the injections got brought in."

Grissom tapped his glasses against his pursed lips, a deep frown on his face.

Warrick cleared his throat.

"Grissom, we all know how much you wanted to nail Mark but I really don't think he did it."

Grissom looked up at them and nodded slowly.

"Buddha said 'In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, in the expert's mind there are few'. I was too focused on Mark Boreman. So, if we're eliminating him for the moment then we should make a visit to his brother's studio."

Catherine jumped up with a grin aimed at Greg.

"Good. I always thought I'd be great in the movies. And every good star needs a sidekick."

Greg grinned back at her, following Catherine and Grissom out of the office.

Pulling up outside the rundown warehouse, Greg climbed out of the Tahoe with a look of apprehension.

"This place looks… erm, looks nice."

Grissom and Catherine shared a look as O'Riley pulled up behind them, clambering out with a uniformed officer. He waved the warrant at them and sidled up to the huge door. Above it hung a tacky neon sign advertising the studio that Greg shook his head at.

"I thought it would be slightly more glamorous than this."

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Please, Greg, this is Vegas not Hollywood."

He shrugged and followed the gang to the door, on which O'Riley was banging. Eventually, it opened a crack and a haggard face poked through.

"Yeah, what?"

O'Riley wedged his foot in the doorway.

"Are you Elijah Boreman?"

"No."

"No? So who are you?"

The man shrugged, his beady eyes roaming the others in front of the warehouse.

"I'm Karl Davies, Elijah's assistant. Who are you?"

"I'm Detective O'Riley, this is Officer James and Criminalists Grissom, Willows and Sanders. We have a warrant to search the premises."

He thrust the warrant through the door and barged his way in with the others following. Greg let out a low whistle.

"This is more like it."

As Karl moved to the side to look at the warrant while being watched over by the officer, the others got to see the full extent of the warehouse. High tech film cameras, lavish sets, offices and racks and racks of costumes filled the place. O'Riley turned to Karl.

"Where's Elijah Boreman?"

Karl shrugged and perched on the edge of a long table full of swords, armour and plastic, bloody heads on pikes.

"How am I supposed to know? He's the boss, he can do whatever he wants."

Catherine arched an eyebrow before wandering off to admire the many costumes. Greg trailed her, picking out a tiny gold bikini which he held up to Catherine. She grinned as she looked at and shook her head.

"Maybe a good few years ago, Greg."

He smiled and hung it back up, rifling through the selection.

"You know Cath, some of this stuff is pretty cool in a retro kinda way."

She glanced at some of the clothes he was looking at and did a double-take.

"Wait, Greg stop!"

Snapping on the latex gloves, she gently pulled the multi-coloured coat towards her.

"This matches the fibres we found in Michelle's hair."

Catherine turned to look at Grissom but he was focused on Karl.

"Do you know Michelle Winters?"

Arms folded and staring at the ground, Karl shook his head and Grissom took a step closer to him.

"Well, you must know the name. You flinched when Catherine said it and you can't even look me in the eye."

Catherine stood next to Grissom and thrust the coat in Karl's face.

"Could that be anything to do with the fact that there's blood all over this coat? I'm gonna bet that it's Michelle's blood."

Karl looked up at them and immediately looked away again.

"The coat, all this stuff, it's Elijah's. I just work here."

"Gris, Cath, you need to come look at this."

They turned. Greg was stood in a half open doorway to a closed-off set, his face grim. O'Riley started marching towards him. Suddenly, the door burst open, sending Greg flying in to a table of props. A skinny, well-dressed man ran out and round the corner. O'Riley and the young officer started chasing him, guns drawn, while Catherine rushed to Greg who was lying on the ground unconscious.

The man managed to dodge both cops and burst out of a back door to the warehouse. By the time, O'Riley made it out to the back alley, he just heard the echoing of screeching tires and a pair of brake lights disappearing in to the night.

Returning to the warehouse, he marched straight over to where Karl was cowering.

"I thought you didn't know where Boreman was. Looks to me like he just evaded arrest and attacked an officer, and that you were trying to hide him."

Greg groaned as he sat up to be greeted from Catherine's sympathetic smile.

"Did anyone get the number of that truck?"

Catherine grinned at him while Grissom turned on Karl.

"O'Riley, take him away. We'll talk to him later."

Catherine grabbed a towel off the table and dabbed the gash on Greg's forehead.

"That's gonna leave a nasty bump."

Greg pointed towards the door that Elijah Boreman had just burst through.

"And that room might leave a nasty taste in your mouth."

Catherine followed Grissom in to a large set. A gurney was set up in the centre, surrounded by numerous medical instruments like scalpels and drills. Over the gurney lay a bloody sheet, surrounded by tissues and discarded surgical gowns.

The pair split, going round either side of the operating table. Grissom examined the camera by the side of the gurney and raised an eyebrow.

"There's film in this."

Greg wandered on to the set, still dabbing the wound on his head. He shrugged as he watched the others looking around.

"It is a set, guys. It's probably just movie blood."

Grissom glanced up at him and nodded to the kit on the floor.

"Movie blood isn't that kind of colour. Real blood can actually end up looking pretty fake on film. Better check it out though."

Greg knelt down and took out a cotton swab with which he took a sample of the blood. He dabbed it on to the detector and it came up with two stripes. Greg shook his head.

"It's human."

Grissom nodded and picked up three rolls of duct tape dangling on a piece of string.

"We need to check that against the residue on Michelle's wrist."

"Er, Gil. That's not all."

Catherine clenched her jaw as she raised a long, silver implement. It had a curved handle on either side of the slender spike that narrowed in to a thick needle. The phenolphthalein revealed that it was positive for blood. Catherine felt her stomach lurch.

"Doc Robbins said that someone tried to lobotomise Michelle with some kind of needle. This is positive for blood, Gil. This is what he used."

She dropped the tool in to a plastic evidence bag and sighed heavily.

"We need to check out that film."


	7. Chapter 7

Archie sat in the AV lab, playing with the digital readouts. Catherine sat behind him in silence, waiting for him to play back the film they found in the warehouse. Archie clicked his fingers.

"Got it. Just setting it up for the screen now."

Greg wandered in and sat down next to Catherine.

"I dropped the duct tape off at Trace and Hodges basically laughed in my face. He said any residue that was found on Michelle's wrist would probably just link back to the brand, not a specific roll. Please tell me that I was never such an ass when I was in the lab."

Catherine smiled at him as the screen flickered into life. The medical set appeared with Michelle sat on the gurney, the brightly coloured coat that Catherine had found with the costumes draped across her shoulders. She was flicking through what looked like a script and sharing a joke with someone off camera.

A clapperboard appeared in front of the camera, snapping shut as someone yelled 'Action'. Michelle threw the script out of shot, paused and then slipped the coat off her shoulders. She looked up at someone stood near the camera and smiled nervously.

"Doctor, are you sure that this is a safe procedure?"

A slim man in scrubs, a white coat and medical mask wandered into shot with a clipboard and a scalpel palmed behind his back.

"Of course, Miss Fairweather. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

Greg turned to Catherine with a scowl.

"First of all, I thought her name was Michelle Winters."

"It was. This all looks like some kind of amateur horror movie."

Archie glanced over his shoulder at them.

"Or some kind of weird snuff film. She does end up dead, remember?"

Greg pointed at the doctor prowling across the room towards Michelle, the scalpel glinting in the hand behind his back.

"Second, that's the guy that charged me. How much do you want to bet that's Elijah Boreman?"

On screen, Michelle raised her hands in what was supposed to be fear although it looked more like she was attempting to suppress a fit of giggles.

"Doctor, I'm scared… Please! I've changed my mind. I don't want to have any surgery. I just want to go home."

The doctor shook his head and thrust at her with the scalpel, ripping open her shirt as what was obviously fake blood squirted towards the camera. Michelle fell back on to the gurney, sprawled across the multicoloured coat.

Boreman grabbed a roll of duct tape from the counter on the far side of the room and bound Michelle's wrists and ankles. She lay there, groaning dramatically and obviously still acting. Somewhere in the distance, a phone started ringing followed by what sounded like a murmur and then a door slamming. Catherine raised an eyebrow.

"Did you hear that? Someone else was there."

Greg nodded.

"It's probably that weird Karl guy. He's Elijah's assistant so he'd be the one answering the phones."

They returned their attention to the screen. The doctor was making a show of picking tools from the counter. He picked up what looked like a hunting knife, intentionally inspecting it in front of the camera so that it glinted as he approached the gurney. Michelle visibly tensed up as she caught sight of it.

Suddenly, there was blood everywhere and Michelle's screams proved she was not acting anymore. Both Catherine and Greg had to look away as Archie cleared his throat, obviously shocked by what he was seeing. When the doctor withdrew, her clothes had been sliced to pieces and she was obviously struggling to stay conscious. Catherine swallowed hard as the doctor slowly pulled the metallic needle from the pocket of his white coat. Greg glanced at her, an almost scared look in his eye.

"Didn't you say that someone tried to lobotomise Michelle?"

She nodded slowly as they watched the doctor cross in front of the camera, blocking their view of what the man was doing to Michelle. Her screams gave away the pain that he was inflicting as she thrashed about on the gurney. After a few seconds, she went still and the doctor's laugh echoed through the AV lab. Catherine could barely control her disgust as the doctor moved out of shot still laughing, leaving Michelle a twitching, bloody heap on the table.

"Archie, turn it off."

He quickly obliged and when he turned around, his face was pale. He cleared his throat and could barely look at either Catherine or Greg.

"I'll see if I can isolate the door and the voice but I'll need a sample to compare it too."

Catherine thanked him and stood, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly as she left, Greg following her without a word.

Grissom was watching Karl pacing up and down the interview room through the one way glass when Catherine, O'Riley and Warrick entered. Catherine had a grim look on her face as she stopped beside him.

"Are you alright?"

She sighed heavily, shaking her head slightly.

"Once again, I've been amazed at what people will do to each other. I checked out the video from the studio. It shows someone dressed up as a doctor attacking Michelle. We think it was probably Elijah Boreman but it seems like Karl may have been there too. We'll need a voice sample to confirm it though. Greg's dropped the other evidence off at the lab. I told him to put a rush on it."

Grissom nodded slowly as Warrick sighed and headed for the door with O'Riley. A couple of minutes later, they were seated across the table from Karl who looked incredibly nervous.

O'Riley slid a file across the table. Karl looked up at them questioningly. Getting no response from either man, he opened the file. Seeing Michelle's autopsy photos and the wounds that had been inflicted on her, he retched and slammed the file shut. Warrick leant back in his chair and folded his arms.

"Don't look away so fast, Karl. That's what you did to Michelle Winters."

Karl's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he shook his head fervently.

"No! No, no, no! I never laid a finger on Michelle! I didn't do a thing to her."

"Funny, because we took a film from the warehouse that shows someone attacking Michelle."

Karl's mouth snapped shut so Warrick decided to call his bluff.

"A film that I think shows _you_ attacking Michelle. It definitely has your voice on it."

O'Riley leant forward, his glare intense.

"25 to life with what you've done. Minimum. Considering how Michelle was tortured though, I'm sure you'll get the death penalty."

Karl jumped to his feet, his hands in front of him in a sign of surrender.

"I swear, I didn't know what he was going to do."

Warrick locked eyes with him.

"You didn't know what Elijah was going to do?"

Karl nodded and sank back into his chair.

"There was blood everywhere and I knew we didn't have that much fake stuff. Not after 'Mutants Take Vegas'. We used loads for that movie."

Warrick rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you just start from the beginning? When did you first meet Michelle?"

Karl shrugged, staring at the closed file in front of him.

"Mark brought her round to the studios nearly a month ago. I think he was just showing her off in front of Elijah. They're always competing with each other, that whole sibling rivalry thing I guess. Elijah hated it when his parents adopted Mark when they were kids. He thought that they always favoured Mark over him, like he was some kind of golden boy. He hates Mark to be honest."

Warrick glanced up at the observation window as he questioned Karl.

"Mark was adopted?"

"Yeah, when they were about seven or eight I think. I went to school with Elijah and he changed when Mark arrived, became really withdrawn and stuff."

Warrick jotted down notes as O'Riley signalled for Karl to carry on.

"Well, when he brought Michelle round, she kept saying how she'd love to be an actress but she knew how hard it was cos she lived in LA. Elijah said she should be in one of his movies, which I thought was really weird because he's normally really strict on his casting. He doesn't let just anyone be in his films. Anyway, after they left, Elijah was talking about her for hours. He kept saying how perfect she was, how beautiful she was, all of that. It went on for days, like he was obsessed or something, especially when she started working there a couple of days later."

"Obsessed?"

"Yeah, he decided she should be in his new movie. The one you got the film of."

"What was the movie about?"

"It was kinda loosely based on the whole 'Stepford Wives' thing, you know? It was this horror movie about this doctor who basically lobotomised these pretty young girls so they didn't think for themselves and did everything he told them to. Eventually, they become like his army or something and they take over the world. Stupid, I know, but you gotta pay the bills."

O'Riley shook his head in disbelief.

"Except you decided to make this horror movie real. You attacked Michelle Winters and tried to lobotomise her."

"No! I swear I didn't! It was Elijah. Before we started filming that scene, Michelle admitted that Mark had left her but that she was doing this film and sticking around Vegas so she could be around him and change his mind. That got Elijah mad, like _really_ mad. He stormed into the office and started shouting at me about how Mark was going to pay for what he did to Michelle, stringing her along like that, and that he would have Michelle for himself. I knew he liked her so I just thought he was blowing off some steam. I guess I was wrong…"

Karl stood and wandered over to the glass, staring at his reflection.

"I set up the camera and everything for the surgery scene, put the blood packs on Michelle. She was really excited, giggly actually, and Elijah seemed to have calmed down so I didn't think anything more of it. We started the scene but the phone started ringing so I left. It was a static shot anyway so I didn't need to worry about the camera. I answered the phone and it was Mark. I told him that we were filming so Elijah couldn't talk. When I told him that Michelle was there, he went mental. He started screaming at me and told me I had to get Elijah right away. When I went back on to the set, Elijah was stood in the doorway. There was blood, so much blood everywhere. But Michelle sat up, she looked like she was in a bit of pain, but she sat up."

Warrick couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"A bit of pain? She'd been stabbed six times and had a needle shoved in to her eyes."

Karl spun round on his heel and slammed his fists in to the table.

"I didn't know that! When Elijah came back, he said that I should go out and buy more make-up remover because Michelle was covered in the fake blood. She didn't say anything so how was I supposed to know? I went out, got the stuff but when I got back, no one was there. When I went into the office, the lock box was open on the desk and Elijah's gun was missing."

O'Riley stood up, his face just inches from Karl's.

"You mean that you saw that there was too much blood, Michelle was in pain, the gun was missing and that Elijah and her had disappeared but you still didn't call the police?"

Karl's fists were clenched and he looked like he might punch the detective. After a few seconds, he sighed heavily as his shoulders slumped.

"I know it looks bad. It is bad. I should have known. But Elijah rang my cell and told me that Michelle had decided to go home and that he was dropping her off at the coach station. When I came in to work this morning, he was fine."

"But Michelle wasn't."

Karl sat back down.

"I just can't believe Elijah would do something like this. I mean, he's always been a little 'out there', you know, and withdrawn. But he's no murderer."

Warrick grabbed his notes and the file from in front of Karl with a look of contempt.

"At least until Michelle. Excuse me."

Warrick left the interview and paused, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself before entering the observation room. Grissom and Catherine looked at him with grim faces.

"Well, I don't believe he really did do anything to hurt Michelle and from what you've said about that film, Catherine, I'm sure it was Elijah Boreman."

Grissom shrugged.

"Not long ago I would have said that about Mark. Unfortunately, that means that I overlooked key evidence. For example, the gun we found with Michelle's body. We need to run the serial number and see if it was registered to Elijah."

Catherine nodded as she looked back through the glass.

"Also, the fact that the blood sample had no markers in common with Mark Boreman is irrelevant if he was adopted. It could still be Elijah. In fact, I agree with Warrick here. I'm almost certain that he did it."

The trio turned their attention back to the interview where O'Riley was wrapping things up with a few more questions.

"So, you know Mark Boreman then?"

Karl shrugged.

"Only because he comes by the studios every once in a while, usually just to wind up Elijah. That's the only reason he ever brought Michelle round. He was already seeing someone else and Elijah knew it."

"Who was he seeing? Do you know her name?"

"It was some ex-model type. Older woman, you know? Married though, which Elijah didn't like. Think her name was Joanna something. That was it, Joanna Davenport."

Nick and Sara waited patiently beside their Tahoe while Brass and a uniformed officer cleared the house. On his way out, he tacked a search warrant to the front door and left the uniform on the porch. Nick and Sara met him halfway up the drive.

"The house is clear. Afraid I've got to leave you in Officer Watson's capable hands. Got a problem at the station apparently. Careful of the front step. I almost took a header when I tripped on that. Catch you two later."

Nick and Sara entered the house, pausing in the hallway. Nick turned to her with a smile.

"Upstairs or down?"

She grinned and marched straight up the stairs. Nick wandered into the living room.

"Take it I've got down then."

The room looked like any normal young guy's house. There were a few half-eaten takeaways stuffed in to the overflowing bin next to the old looking sofa. Nick took a closer look at the widescreen tv and the X-Box and PS2 hooked up to it, letting out a whistle of appreciation. Heading towards a door in to the dining room, he was distracted by framed photos on the mantle piece.

A dull thud sounded from outside and Nick shook his head as he yelled to Officer Watson.

"Hey, Brass told you to be careful of that step!"

He heard faint laughter and turned his attention back to the photos. He counted twelve of Mark in romantic clinches within Joanna Davenport. Arching an eyebrow, he picked up the closest one to him. It was of Mark and Joanna on an exotic looking beach with their arms wrapped around each other and huge grins on their faces.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from upstairs. Nick replaced the photo and turned around.

"Sara? You okay up there?"

A series of thuds sounded from above him and he moved back towards the hallway.

"Sara? Officer Watson?"

Nick drew his gun, feeling his adrenaline start pumping as he headed towards the door. A loud creek sounded from nearby and he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Feeling as if someone was nearby, Nick began to turn before he felt a sharp pain across the back of his head and everything faded to black.


	8. Chapter 8

Nick came to in a dark and damp basement. Groaning, the throbbing in his head left him slightly disorientated. He slowly tried to sit up but realised that both his hands and feet were bound with duct tape. A groan came from somewhere in the darkness and Nick froze, trying to let his eyes adjust so he could see more than black. After a few seconds, he could just about make out Sara's body lying at his feet.

"Sara? Sara, are you ok?"

Nick got no response. Worried, he raised his wrists and started trying to rip off the tape with his teeth. After a lot of effort, he finally managed to get the duct tape broken enough to pull his hands apart. He quickly untied his feet and scrambled over to Sara. He gently shook her shoulders and brushed the hair from her face, calling her name repeatedly. Slowly, she opened her eyes with a groan.

"Nick?"

He smiled as he removed the tape from her wrists and ankles.

"Hey there. You had me pretty worried for a minute. How'd you feel?"

She sat up, dabbing the nasty cut to her head and looked around her with a slightly glazed expression.

"Yeah, yeah, I think I'm ok. A bit groggy though. Where are we?"

"I dunno. Do you have your gun or a cell phone?"

Sara fumbled around for a second and shook her head.

"You?"

"No, the son of a bitch took them. And Officer Watson isn't here either."

"Oh God, do you think…"

Sara couldn't finish her sentence and Nick couldn't answer it. He jumped to his feet and started prowling around in the dark, feeling the walls and trying to find some way for them to escape.

"There's no windows and the air vents would be too small for a damn puppy to get through. Even you aren't that skinny."

Sara grinned at him as she struggled to her feet, wobbling slightly. Nick rushed to her side to steady her.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

She waved him off and kept smiling.

"Yes, I'm fine. Really! I just need to shake off the cobwebs, that's all."

He nodded and started climbing the wooden steps, a crack of light coming from the door above. He glanced back down at Sara and then tried to push it open, using his full weight for leverage. The door did not budge.

Nick felt a surge of fear as he began to realise that they were genuinely trapped and started hammering on the door, yelling and shouting for help. He didn't stop until the door suddenly flew open, sending him crashing down the stairs and landing in a heap at the bottom. Sara rushed to his side, trying to shake him awake as she looked back up to the doorway. The silhouette above her pointed what was obviously a gun down at them, a threatening voice echoing through the basement.

"Keep shouting and you die. Try to escape and you die."

Sara stared up at him, painfully aware of how much she was shaking.

"Look, we're criminalists. We're not cops. Please, just let us go and I swear we won't tell anyone, you won't have to worry. But if you hurt us, if you murder us then you'll still be a cop-killer and you'll have the entire Las Vegas PD after you."

The man laughed as he pointed the gun straight at her.

"Only if they find you, sweetheart."

Sara grabbed Nick's shoulders and tried to pull him out of the way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gun move and dived in front of Nick as the man fired, feeling a hot pain sear through her before everything faded away.

Grissom, Catherine and Warrick watched as O'Riley led Karl out of the interview room and down towards booking. Brass wandered over to them.

"So, how's the Michelle Winters case going?"

Grissom sighed.

"It looks like we may be working the same case as Nick and Sara. It appears that Mark Boreman was dating their vic Joanna Davenport as well as Michelle so we may have found their intruder. Not to mention that our main suspect for Michelle's murder is Mark's brother, Elijah Boreman."

Brass raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I gotta say I'm surprised about the whole brother thing but as for Mark, Nick and Sara already know. They're over at his house now."

His phone started ringing and he excused himself as Grissom turned to the others.

"We should see what they've got and get Mark back in for questioning."

Brass marched back over to them, an almost worried look on his face.

"That was Mark Boreman on the phone. He said that Elijah, his own brother, is trying to track him down and kill him. There was a yell and then it cut off. I've ordered a trace on the call."

At that moment, Greg came sprinting round the corner, almost slipping on the polished floors as he came to a halt in front of the small group.

"Have any of you seen Sara or Nick?"

Brass glanced at Grissom and then back at Greg.

"Yeah, I left them at Mark Boreman's house about an hour and a half ago."

"Well, I've been trying to ring them and beep them for an hour and I've got no answer."

Brass grabbed his radio from his pocket and tried to get through to Officer Watson. There was only static. He looked at the others with his eyebrows raised.

"I left them with an officer at the door. They were both armed. They should have been fine!"

Brass' phone started ringing again.

"Yeah… Great, where?"

He hung up without a goodbye or thank you as he looked Grissom straight in the eye.

"That call came from Mark Boreman's house. That's where I left them both. We should get over there right now with back up."

They started making their way out when O'Riley shouted them from down the hall.

"I just heard there's been reports of shots fired at Mark Boreman's house."

Grissom and Catherine shared a look and practically ran to their cars.

Nick once again found himself trying to shake Sara awake, gently trying to staunch the bleeding from her shoulder. She slowly opened her eyes with a groan and Nick sighed with relief.

"Why did you do that? Huh, why'd you put yourself in danger for me?"

She clenched her hand around her left arm as Nick ripped off the bottom of his shirt to use as a tourniquet.

"Yeah, you're right. Why did I do that? Next time, you can get shot."

He grinned as he tied the material round her arm gently but firmly.

"Deal."

He got to his feet and started pacing as Sara just watched him move back and forth, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her arm.

"How long have we been down here?"

"Well, it's been about an hour since we got to Boreman's house. I'm assuming we're still there."

Sara shivered and Nick immediately crouched down beside her.

"Hey, you ok? You cold?"

"Just a little but I'm fine. Really, Nick, I'm fine."

Nick started marching round the basement, eventually finding a blanket amid a pile of boxes under the stairs. He shook it out and draped it round Sara, sitting down beside her as they leant against a wooden beam.

"You think anyone's realised we're missing yet?"

Sara glanced at him as she let her head drop onto his shoulder.

"Of course they have. Brass knows where we are anyway. Nick, can I ask you something?"

He smiled through the darkness.

"Sure, fire away."

She paused, unsure how to ask.

"When we went to the hospital, checking out Joanna Davenport, you… I don't know how to say this but I guess you acted kinda weird."

She felt Nick tense up beside her but continued.

"Look, I don't mean to pry but you had me worried. You seemed really… I guess scared of something. What happened?"

Nick let out a long breath and shook his head.

"You'll think I stupid."

She punched him playfully on the arm.

"No, I won't! And it doesn't seem like we're going anywhere soon so you got plenty of time to explain."

"Ok, fine. Well, I haven't been sleeping well recently. I know y'all think I've been some kind of playboy or something but to be honest, I've been having nightmares. I've been having a lot of them too, always about the same thing."

Sara waited for him to continue as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts, obviously slightly embarrassed by what seemed to be his lack of male bravado.

"Do you remember Nigel, Nigel Crane?"

"The stalker guy. He killed that woman and posed her like your prom date as a gift and then tried to kill himself in your own home. Of course I remember."

Nick sighed heavily.

"I thought I saw him at the hospital. I know it wasn't him and that I'm just being stupid but I can't help it. I can barely sleep at night knowing that he used to be there, watching me, taping me, like I was some kind of lab rat. He was in my home, Sara, he killed Jane Galloway for me. Do you have any idea how that feels, knowing that someone would do something so evil as a _gift_ of all things?"

Sara slung her arm around Nick's waist with a sigh, squeezing slightly as she felt him rest his chin on the top of her head.

"It's not stupid, Nick. No one would ever say that was stupid. This guy put you in hospital and, worse than that, he invaded your home, the one place we're supposed to be safe from all this stuff. I'm sorry that you've been having nightmares but you know what, one day that's all it'll be. A bad dream."

Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she threw some of the blanket over him as she nestled into the crook of his arm.

"It's all just a bad dream, Nick. Everything's going to be fine."

Half an hour later and the conversation had turned to their families. Nick sighed.

"You know, I do miss my folks, my brother and my sisters. Becoming a CSI was pretty much all I wanted. In a way, it was a kind of compromise, you know? My old man's a judge and my mom's a prosecutor so this means I'm basically in the middle, that I'm objective. They both respect that so I studied hard, got my degree and when the position opened up here in Vegas, I jumped at the chance. I thought it would bring me a bit of freedom. My dad's reputation casts a long shadow back home in Texas."

Sara's reply was muffled as she was resting her head on Nick's chest.

"Do you get to see them much?"

"Not as much as I'd like. What about you?"

"Me? I was always pretty independent. Now I'm not that sure if it's a good thing."

"Oh, I dunno. I've always admired that about you. You don't take any crap from people and you don't seem to care about what they think of you either. I always dwell on it. I guess having such a large, close family meant I was pretty sheltered and I got used to being close to people. That's not always a good thing though. I just wish I could be more like you sometimes."

"Really? I'm surprised actually."

"I mean, you're like Catherine. You're the people person. I always admired that about you and I wish I had more of your people skills. Maybe it's because I'm just too independent. I guess half the time being independent just means you're more cut off, more detached."

"Like Grissom?"

She laughed.

"God, I hope I'm not quite like that! But as for family, no I don't see them much."

"Well, we've basically formed our own little family at work now."

"You already were a family when I got here. I never told anyone this before but I was pretty intimidated when Gris asked me to stay on in Vegas. I mean, I was pretty settled back in San Francisco and I was only brought in to do the internal investigation after Holly Gribbs was shot. You all seemed so close already. I just didn't think I'd fit in at all."

Nick laughed.

"But you did, Sara, and you do an amazing job here. Not to mention you seemed to get on great with Hank, that paramedic guy."

Sara tensed up beside him and Nick immediately knew he'd said something wrong.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I'm sorry, Sara, I didn't mean to upset you or anything.

"No, no. It's just kinda awkward you know, admitting you've been taken for a complete fool."

"We've all been there, we've all been hurt. I know I have this reputation for being a bit of a ladies man and all but to be honest, all I really want is to find someone to settle down with. The perfect woman who I can start a family with."

"I thought I'd found my perfect person, a man who understood me. Problem was that he was just too worried about his job. I didn't stand a chance."

Nick sighed and gently squeezed her shoulders.

"You know what Sara? One day, you'll find someone you love, someone who loves you and all that other stuff just won't matter. Man, I'm really turning all mushy here!"

She laughed as she looked up at him.

"I'm just surprised by that. I always thought your job was important to you."

He shrugged, Sara's head bouncing on his shoulder.

"It is, of course it is, just like your job's important to you. But sometimes you've just got to prioritise, you know?"

She nodded slowly and stretched her legs out to avoid them going to sleep.

"Ok, now we've done the lovey-dovey stuff, how about a change of subject? Like, what do you look for in your ideal woman?"

Nick laughed, surprised by the change of tact. If it had been anyone else, he would have thought she was flirting with him.

"Well, I seem to go for redheads a lot but to be completely honest, someone like you I guess. You know, someone strong willed, who knows exactly what they want and won't give up. Someone independent, though maybe with slightly better people skills than you."

Sara laughed, glad that the darkness was hiding the blush creeping across her face.

"You also mean someone without the awful track record with men."

Nick's hand gently raised Sara's chin so that he could see her face as he smiled down at her.

"Someone as beautiful as you really won't have a problem finding someone."

He brushed a few tendrils of hair away from her face as they locked eyes, his heart beating furiously. She stared straight back at him, her lips parting in to a nervous smile as she tilted her head slightly. Nick smiled too as he let his fingers trace the contour of her cheek, sending a shiver of electricity down his spine. He leant further forward, letting his lips brush against hers. They both paused, staring into each others eyes and both understanding the other's fears without saying a word.

Sara's hand crept up Nick's back, her fingers running through his short hair. His smile grew as he cradled her chin in his hand, drawing her lips closer to him as he murmured her name. She kissed him then, letting his warmth and salty taste become a welcome relief from the pain throbbing through the arm lying limp at her side. As he pulled her closer, the kiss became more intense and everything around them faded to blissful silence.

Grissom, Catherine and Greg piled out of the Tahoe as Warrick screeched to a halt outside of Mark Boreman's house. Slightly ahead of them, Brass and O'Riley jumped out of their car and immediately started co-ordinating the officers around them. Brass jogged over to them.

"We've found Officer Watson. He was in the boot of his car."

Grissom sighed heavily.

"Dead?"

"Yeah. We're getting the guys ready to surround the place."

Warrick stepped forward, a grim look of determination in his eyes.

"I'm going in with you."

Brass shook his head.

"No way. This guy is a cop killer as it is and we don't need a bunch of scientists getting in the damn way."

Brass started to walk away but Warrick stepped in front of him.

"That's our friends in there. Try and stop me."

Warrick pulled his gun from his holster and walked ahead of him. Brass looked to Grissom for support but, without a single word, he simply drew his weapon and followed Warrick with Catherine and Greg close behind. Brass simply shook his head and followed them over to O'Riley.

"Fine, have it your way. Grissom, Catherine, you're with me. Warrick, Greg, go with O'Riley and circle round back. I don't want this son of a bitch sneaking out on us."

The group split, each following a large group of officers towards the house as the lights from the cars strobed blue and red through the dark. Brass led the way up the drive flanked by officers on either side and with Grissom and Catherine behind him. Suddenly, the lead officer stopped, waving Brass forward.

"We got someone injured up here."

Brass radioed back for a paramedic while Catherine craned her neck for a better look, stepping out from behind the cops. Surprised, she lowered her weapon and rushed forward.

"Mr O'Connor?"

She crouched down next to him, laying a hand on top of his own that were clenched around his stomach.

"Mr O'Connor, what the hell are you doing here?"

He was gasping for breath, blood seeping between his fingers as he looked up at her.

"She.. she said 'avenge me'… I came here, to do that but…"

He looked down at his stomach and looked back up at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Catherine held the man's hand as his head dropped to the side. She slid her fingers round his wrist and sighed as the paramedics ran up to her. She stood, moving out of their way and trudged back to where Grissom was waiting.

"It was John O'Connor, the guy who found Michelle. He took her last words a little too literally and got shot by the looks of things."

Grissom looked at her intently.

"Is he ok?"

As if on cue, the paramedics ran past, carrying John back on a stretcher with a sheet over his face. Catherine raised her gun again and followed Brass as he edged closer to the house. One of the officers flung the door open and the others charged in behind him, nearly tripping over Nick and Sara's field kits strewn across the floor.

As Catherine and Grissom followed Brass inside, gun shots sounded and an officer fell to the ground. Another grabbed him and pulled him outside leaving Brass, Grissom and Catherine positioned in a diagonal line in the hallway. Brass shook his head as he stepped towards the living room.

"I don't like this."

They slowly and carefully walked into the room, immediately seeing Mark lying unconscious in the middle of the floor. In the corner, Elijah was crouched down with his head in hands, the gun balanced on his knees. Brass trained his own weapon on him and took a step forward.

"Elijah Boreman, drop the gun and stand up with your hands behind your head."

Elijah did not respond so Brass raised his voice.

"Elijah Boreman, drop your weapon!"

He blinked rapidly as he raised his head, as if he had only just realised that the others were there. He stood, the gun clenched in his hand as he backed away silently and rambled incoherently. Grissom glanced at the others and took a step forward.

"Elijah, what happened to Michelle?"

He froze, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Grissom.

"She was the Chosen One. She was my Chosen One but he tainted her, uh huh, he contaminated her. She was cleansed, she was made pure again, innocent. I had to make her right again, wipe the bad stuff from her brain, drain the bad memories."

"Is that why you tried to lobotomise her?"

"Lobotomise? No. No, no, no, no… I made her like a Stepford Wife, I made her a blank canvas. But something went wrong. She still wanted him."

Elijah waved the gun in Mark's direction and started pacing back and forth.

"Why would she want that scum, that cheating, lying scum. He wasn't worthy of her, of anything. He turned her against me. I tried to make things right. I knew the Chosen One must become a martyr so I got my gun but I couldn't do it. After everything else, I failed her, I couldn't make her a martyr. So she left and I lost the Chosen One. It's all his fault so now he has to pay, just like everyone else who tries to get in my way."

"Like my colleagues, Nick and Sara? Like Officer Watson and John O'Connor?"

"They shouldn't have got in the way. They should have stayed quiet, they should've followed the plan. The plan makes everything so simple."

Brass shook his head with disbelief.

"I've had enough of this. Elijah, drop the damn gun."

Elijah stopped pacing and tapped the gun against his temple, shaking his head.

"No, see, I can't do that. It's not part of the plan."

Brass felt himself tense up as he looked at Catherine. Her eyes suddenly widened and he snapped his gaze back to Elijah. He had opened his jacket to reveal that he was wearing a vest strapped with dynamite. Pointing the gun at Brass, he left his other hand hovering over the switch.

"This is the plan, Captain. We have to follow the plan."

Sara was half-asleep with her head resting on Nick's shoulder when she heard the sirens. They jumped to their feet as the sirens got closer and closer. They grinned at each other and rushed to the air vents, yelling for help to whoever was out there.

After a few minutes, they could hear footsteps outside and yelled louder, banging on the metal grid covering the vents. Suddenly, Greg's voice echoed down the duct.

"Sara? Nick? Are you ok? Where are you?"

Sara sighed with relief as Nick yelled back up to them.

"We're ok but Sara's injured. We're in the basement, I think, but our guns are missing."

Warrick's voice replaced Greg's.

"Ok, Nick hold tight, we're coming to get you."

In the background, he could hear O'Riley radioing their location to someone else. Nick turned to Sara with a huge grin and went to hug her. She wobbled on her feet, her smile fading as she fell towards him. Nick caught her, gently lowering her to the ground as her eyes closed. He brushed the hair from her face as he felt the fear rising inside him.

"Sara? Sara, wake up! Please?"

He cradled her in his arms as he shouted up to the vents.

"Warrick, hurry! Sara… She's not going to make it."

Inside the house, Brass' radio crackled to life and O'Riley's voice broke through the tense air.

"Brass, this is O'Riley. Nick and Sara are in the Boreman's basement but Sara's severely injured, I repeat severely injured."

The radio went quiet again and Grissom shot a worried glance at Catherine. Elijah's hand covered the detonation switch on the vest as he took a step towards the trio.

"Don't even think about it. They're not part of the plan, but you are now. You do anything stupid and everyone dies."

Catherine took a step forward and Elijah pointed his gun straight at her.

"I said don't do anything stupid."

Catherine nodded and smiled at him, slowly crouching down and placing her own weapon on the floor. She raised her hands up in a sign of surrender and took a tentative step towards him.

"Elijah, I actually agree with you. I met your brother, adopted brother, and you're right, he's no good."

Elijah's hand dropped a little as he listened to her, nodding as she spoke.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Catherine, Catherine Willows."

"Are you a cop?"

She shook her head and he smiled slightly.

"You're another one of those criminalist types, right? Like those two downstairs?"

"Yeah, they're my friends."

She took another step forward, her hands still out in front of her in an effort to show him that she was no threat. She glanced at Grissom, trying to ignore the worry in his eyes. He had always said that she was the people person, now she was counting on it.

"Like I said, I met Mark. I know what kind of person he is."

Elijah nodded, the gun hanging forgotten by his side as Catherine drew him in.

"He tried it on with you, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he did. But he couldn't fool me, Elijah, I could see him for what he really was. He's just like all the guys I've met my whole life, but not like you. He's nothing like you."

Elijah's head cocked to one side as he listened.

"You're like Michelle, you know? You move like her, like a dancer. You're elegant."

Catherine smiled, bowing her head with modesty.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. You're a lot kinder than Mark. He just used people, didn't he? He used Michelle and you tried to stop him because he was already messing around with Joanna Davenport, right?"

"Michelle was too good for him. She was the Chosen One and he tried to lower her, pull her down to his despicable level. I couldn't have that, I couldn't let him."

Catherine was only a matter of feet away from Elijah as he continued.

"He turned the goddess into the clown, he made her a fool. Joanna was a psycho, everyone could see that. All those years she posed and preened and prostituted herself for cameras, all that make up and hairspray and starving herself, she was a monster! Mark wanted to run away with her but she turned on him so he got himself Michelle. You see, he just used her to drive her mad, he just used her to rub her nose in it. But she was the Chosen One, she was too pure. She sent Joanna mad and that flame-haired devil killed her husband and then herself. They're both burning now, burning burning burning in hell. And then Mark had the audacity to come to me expecting sympathy after he spurned my Michelle."

Catherine nodded, trying to look like she understood and emphasised with him as she inched forward.

"Michelle may have hurt me but Mark hurt her more. He didn't care about her but I did, I loved her! It's all his fault, he did this, he made me do this!"

Catherine tried to calm him down, moving even closer to him.

"I know, Elijah, I know. It's ok. I understand, ok? It's all going to be ok, I understand."

Elijah's eyes snapped on to hers, his voice as timid as a frightened child.

"You understand?"

She nodded slowly and smiled.

"Yes, of course I do. So why don't you just let my friends go and then we can talk about it properly."

Catherine felt both Brass and Grissom's silent protest behind her but ignored them. She smiled at Elijah again, trying to reassure him. He stared at her for a second and when he finally spoke, his voice was uncertain.

"You want to be alone with me, to talk?"

"Yes. Can we do that? Can we let everyone else go so that we can talk?"

A smile started to cross his lips as he inclined his head, moving closer to her. He raised his hand towards her face and as much as she tried to resist it, Catherine flinched. The smile faded and his eyes filled with a desperate sadness before being instantly replaced by anger.

Elijah grabbed Catherine's throat, spinning her round so that he had her back against him, protecting himself from Grissom and Brass who immediately lurched forward. Elijah pressed the gun to Catherine's temple, his breath hot against her ear.

"You're just as bad as him. You're trying to use me! You don't understand, you could never understand! You're evil, nothing like Michelle. Michelle was pure, Michelle was the Chosen One. You need to pay for your insolence."

He pointed the gun at Grissom.

"Now beg for your lives."

Warrick and Greg carefully followed O'Riley round the back of the house, letting some uniformed officers pass them to check out the overgrown garden. Guns drawn, they slowly climbed the back steps, almost on tip-toe, and came out into what appeared to be a laundry room.

O'Riley stalked across the room, Warrick right behind him while Greg hung back a little, his nerves almost overwhelming him. The detective turned back to the two of them, his finger pressed to his lips. Greg strained his ears and could hear a man's voice drifting down the hallway. Warrick glanced at him, mouthing Elijah's name. Greg nodded and followed them as they carefully moved their way in to the hallway.

Looking up the corridor, Greg could see straight into the front room. He caught eyes with Grissom, who quickly looked away again. O'Riley followed his gaze and looked at the situation up ahead. Seeing their guns drawn and hearing Elijah's angry voice, he started making his way towards the living room. Brass saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced in his direction, shaking his head slightly so as not to be noticed. O'Riley quickly retreated to his previous position while Warrick carefully and quietly flung back the bolts on the basement door. He quickly slipped into the darkness, Greg close behind him, and paused at the bottom of the stairs as he tried to let his eyes adjust.

Nick appeared from the shadows, carrying Sara in his arms. Greg rushed over to them, checking her pulse and breathing. Nick's expression was one of fear.

"She just collapsed. He shot her, the guy shot her from up there. I thought she was ok!"

Greg forced a smile as he waved for him to lie her down. Nick and Warrick watched nervously as he checked her wound and then gently tapped Sara's cheeks. Groaning, her eyes fluttered open and she focused on Greg.

"But… Hey Greggo. Are we out then?"

He grinned at her and then up at the others.

"Not quite, but we're nearly there. You just need to get up the stairs, out the back and then we're all home free."

She struggled to her feet, swinging her good arm around Greg's shoulders as Nick followed close behind her, worried about her climbing the stairs. Warrick trotted on ahead, preparing to check if it was safe to leave. Slowly opening the door, he nodded to O'Riley who frantically waved them out.

Emerging into the bright light, Nick felt disorientated and looked around him with wide eyes. His eyes focused on the end of the corridor and he saw Elijah's back, clutching Catherine with the gun pressed to his head. Nick locked eyes with Brass, registering the fear on his face and took a step forward.

Brass turned back to face Elijah who was still shouting and screaming, almost incoherently.

"We have to follow the plan! The Chosen One is a martyr now, flying free, so she must replace her, you're all going to replace her, burning like you're in hell. Fireworks, big fireworks, like the devil's Fourth of July…"

Elijah removed the gun from Catherine's temple and pointed it straight at Grissom.

"Everyone's going to burn!"

At the other end of the corridor, Nick blinked. It was Nigel Crane stood there, waving the gun. He felt the bile rise in his throat as he watched his stalker rant and rave. All the anger, the fear, came flooding back and Nick spun around. He ripped Greg's gun from the holster on his hip and started marching down towards the front room. Greg and Warrick both tried to grab him but he was like a man possessed. He felt the recoil, the flash illuminating his clenched jaw as the loud crack echoed in his ears. Nigel collapsed in a heap beside his adopted brother as Catherine darted out of the way.

Nick walked into the room, oblivious to the looks of surprise from the others around him. Standing over Elijah's groaning form, Nick pointed the gun straight down between his eyes. It was Nigel Crane and his thick-rimmed spectacles looking back up at him. Nick did not even notice the tears running down his cheeks until he felt a hand resting on his arm. Blinking again, Nigel disappeared, replaced by a cowering Elijah. He turned and looked straight into Sara's eyes. She nodded to him almost imperceptibly as she gently pushed on his arm, forcing him to lower the gun.

"Nick, it's ok. It's over now, it's all over. It's finally done."

Brass stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Nick tore his eyes away from Sara and nodded. He passed the gun to Brass and marched out of the house without another word.

Grissom turned to Sara, a look of worry in his eyes even before he saw the blood soaked material wrapped around her arm.

"Sara…"

She raised a hand, instantly silencing him.

"I'm fine, Grissom. Really, I'm fine."

"And Nick?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"I don't think he ever got over everything with Crane. Maybe he's finally just put his demons to rest."

With that, she marched outside and saw Nick leaning on the Tahoe, his hands on the hood and his head hung low. She stopped beside him, gently lifting his chin to make him look at her. He looked strangely gaunt as the red and blue lights played across his face.

"I.. I saw…"

Sara smiled in understanding.

"I know. Elijah Boreman was strapped with explosives and was holding Catherine at gunpoint. You probably saved all our lives, you know."

Nick looked away, shaking his head.

"But what if next time it's not a guy like Elijah Boreman? What if this happens again to someone who's done nothing wrong?"

"It won't, Nick. It won't."

"You can't promise that, you don't know."

Sara turned him so that they were facing each other, cradling his face in her hands.

"I do know, Nick. You're one of the good guys and even if you need to talk to someone about this, get your head sorted, we're all here for you. I'm here for you."

Before he could respond, one of the paramedics rushed up to Sara.

"Miss, we really need to examine your wound."

She turned back to Nick but all she saw was his back disappearing down the drive.


	9. Chapter 9

Catherine, Brass and Grissom sat opposite Mark Boreman, who had a large gauze bandage round his head from where Elijah had knocked him out. He simply sat there, staring at the floor and wringing his hands in his lap. Catherine started the questions.

"How did all this happen, Mark?"

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. Catherine glanced at the others and tried again.

"Ok, let's start with Michelle Winters. We know Elijah killed her but what I don't understand is why you were with her if you didn't even like her."

He shook his head frantically before wincing as he gingerly touched his bandage.

"It's not that I didn't like her, it's just that I didn't love her. At first, I knew that she liked me but I was taken, you know? I didn't do anything about it except flirt a little until Joanna said that she wasn't going to leave James. I used Michelle to make her jealous, to make her see that she was wrong and she belonged with me. When I realised that Elijah liked her, I… I admit that I rubbed his nose in it. He owed me money and treated me like some kind of idiotic slave! I never knew that he, he would…"

He trailed off and swallowed hard.

"Elijah wanted me to split up with Michelle, to stop corrupting her, so he told Joanna about me and her. I didn't know that she'd already told James that she was leaving him for me until she rang me, totally distraught. I ended it with Michelle straight away and told her the situation. She seemed surprisingly understanding. Of course, I didn't know that she was staying in Vegas with Elijah to try and win me back."

"So what happened with the Davenports?"

"Joanna told me to meet her outside at 10pm on the dot because she was ready to go, she was ready to spend the rest of her life with me. I was so happy. It finally felt like everything was going right."

He closed his eyes, telling them how it happened as it replayed in his mind.

"I could hear them fighting and screaming and yelling at each other while I waited out front. When I heard the gun go off, I was sure that James had shot her. He was always jealous of the attention she got and was awful to her, hitting her and stuff. I kicked down the door and went straight up to the bedroom. Joanna was stood with her back to me, facing James who was kneeling on the bed. He was yelling at her, calling her a whore while she was coughing and spluttering and pointing the gun at him. And when it went off, everything just got so quiet. I went to her, I tried to make her talk to me but she just walked in to the bathroom. There was glass and blood everywhere but Joanna, she was suddenly so calm. She just washed her hands and then threw the towels at me, telling me to get rid of them and to get rid of myself. I asked her what she meant and she just walked straight past me. The next thing I knew, she… She shot herself in the head. I tried to give her CPR, I tried to help her but it was too late so I took the towels and the gun and just got the hell out of there. I didn't want people to know that she had killed herself."

Grissom sighed heavily.

"You tampered with a crime scene."

"I guess I did but it was just to protect her. I went straight to the studios and found Elijah there. He took the towels away and put the gun in a lock box in the office. He sent me home and I swear I didn't know Michelle was there."

"But you did find out about her."

He nodded.

"I rang the studio a little later on and Karl answered. He said that Elijah was filming with Michelle and I knew what he was up to, I knew he was going to try it on and that she would reject him. I told him to put Elijah on the phone. When he answered, I told him to leave Michelle alone, that if he did anything to her then I'd kill him with my own bare hands. He told me that if I tried to interfere, he'd tell the police about Joanna and James. He said that Michelle was his Stepford Wife, whatever the hell that meant, and that he'd make her realise that she loved him, not me. It wasn't until you lot dragged me in here that I knew what he'd done. On my way home, he rang me and started yelling about how I'd turned him, that I'd betrayed him and was gonna pay. When I got home, I saw the police car outside and thought I was safe but as soon as I got inside, I knew something was wrong. I tried ringing Captain Brass here but then Elijah came at me. The next thing I remember is waking up in the living room being surrounded by police."

Brass stood, calling in a uniformed officer.

"Mr Boreman, you're going to be charged with tampering with a crime scene. As for everything else, well, you're just going to have to live with it."

The officer started to escort Mark out of the interview room but he paused in the doorway.

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt, you know."

With that, he left and Catherine folded her arms as she leant back in her chair.

"Elijah Boreman is going away for a long, long time, thank god. As for Mark, I believe him. I don't think he ever knew what all this was going to lead to."

Grissom nodded.

"Elijah loved Michelle, Michelle loved Mark, Mark loved Joanna."

Brass shrugged as they made their way out of the room.

"And they say all you need is love."

Nick and Sara had watched the interview with Mark through the one-way glass. Readjusting her arm in the sling, she sighed as she watched her colleagues leave the room.

"I guess I was right. Sometimes love just isn't enough."

Nick turned to her, brushing the hair from her face without even a hint of a smile. She stared right back into his eyes, a shiver of excitement coursing through her. He swallowed hard as he cupped her chin in his hand. He lingered there a moment before he spun on his heel and marched away. Swinging open the door, he paused for a second, glancing at her over his shoulder with a quiet voice.

"No, I guess it's not."

Sara could do nothing but let him walk away.

4


End file.
